All I Need
by naleynaleynaley
Summary: Nathan Scott finds something he wasn't looking for. And the limitations of social hierarchy have never been more constricting. But challenges have always been apart of the game. AU NH
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Nathan Scott had developed a resounding hatred for many things. Fate, mostly, which had suddenly dealt him a most unfavorable card. That card was a one-way ticket to Tree Hill, North Carolina. He was losing all he'd ever known -- his friends, his school, his basketball stats and most of all his three years invested on a team towards earning state title. The irony was that his dedication to basketball had stemmed from the very same reason that he was losing everything his senior year of high school: his father. It seemed that Dan Scott's screw-ups were both inheritable and unavoidable.

Speak of the devil himself. His father was outside directing the movers into the house while stealing the occasional scrutinizing glance at his son; to make sure he was practicing his drills, correctly.

He turned away and stared up at the basketball hoop. It had been one of the first things unpacked and set up upon his father's request… or demand… whatever you wanted to call it. He rotated the ball in his hands, letting it slide across all ten fingers, then bounced the ball with such force that its collision with the concrete caught the attention of the entire moving crew. His father was the only person unperturbed.

Without so much as a second glance their way, he aimed and shot the ball clear through the net hearing nothing but the sound of rubber against rope. And then he started his repetitions, almost mindlessly. In reality it was a fine-tuned art and skill practiced with rigid concentration eleven out of the seventeen years of his life. Of course by now, it came as easy as breathing.

* * *

Almost two hours later, the front door peeled open.

Nathan caught the ball as it slid through the hoop one last time, tucking it under one arm. He watched his father come out onto the driveway and caught the towel he threw at him.

"Nathan, I have to go to the dealership."

He grimaced at that. The whole reason why he had suddenly found himself relocated to this Podunk town. If only his father had been financially smarter, he wouldn't have blown his business deals in Charlotte. He was sure his dad could read the irritated look on his face. _That's right, dad. For once, I'm ashamed of you._ His father ignored it, walking right past him. Once again, their family had relied on his mother's father, his Grandpa Lee to save them. And that's how Lee Motors of Tree Hill became Dan Scott Motors.

His father added, "I just ordered in. The food should be here within the next half hour."

Nathan acknowledged this before heading towards the house, hearing his father's Jaguar roar to life behind him, and then gradually rumble away into the distance.

In the kitchen, he paused for a moment, observing the impeccable stainless steel appliances and gold specked black granite counter tops. His parents were so full of shit. They just loved to maintain appearances even if that meant their entire family had to be indebted to his grandfather. What consumed him even more was that his entire life had been provided for. And apart from basketball, there wasn't anything that he felt he'd actually earned.

He opened the fridge, pulling out a sports drink and popped it open. He chugged the entire bottle, tossed it in the garbage and scaled the stairs to squeeze in a shower before dinner arrived.

Once finished with his shower, his relaxed state of mind was rudely interrupted when he realized the delivery guy was knocking incessantly at the front door. He grabbed a pair of basketball shorts from a box nearby and didn't even bother with a shirt when he couldn't find one without having to dig.

"I'm coming!" he yelled as he flew down the stairs.

"Damn," he muttered as he opened the door not bothering to look at the delivery boy.

"Excuse me?" Or girl.

He drank in the sight of her all in a split second. 5' 2"? 5' 3"? Maybe. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, followed by a pair of expressive eyes wearing a bit of surprise, cute nose, and innocent pink lips. _Why, hello, hello._ He gave her what he thought to be a charming smile.

She scrunched her nose a little at that. That was definitely a first. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then shut it again. Although, he didn't fail to notice her appraising his bare chest – all was forgiven. He was still smiling.

"Mr. Ott?"

"You mean… Scott? Nathan Scott, by the way," he responded, keeping his tone purposefully low and even.

She looked down, her brows nixed in confusion, "Oh, sorry about that. It was a little noisy being a Saturday and all…" she then froze. "Scott, huh? You know…" she hesitated, cutting her eyes up at him once more. "Never mind."

He watched her in amusement, finding himself uncontrollably intrigued. "And you are?" He asked playfully.

"I'm from the café. You know… your delivery order?" Distinctly ignoring his attempt at flirting, she held up the brown bag in her hands.

He wavered for a moment, not used to this kind of reaction. "Uh, yeah." Nathan grabbed the bag from her, still mystified. "Come in for a second," he stepped back into the house, waiting for her to follow.

Her eyebrows arched upwards with a look of skepticism on her face before stepping up into the front foyer.

He recognized that look immediately. "My wallet's upstairs, that's all."

She nodded giving the pretense that she already knew this.

"So, you're new in town, huh?" she asked, just as his right foot touched the first step.

"What made you think that?" Looking pointedly at the array of emptied moving boxes, he sneered slightly, turning the asshole on. As hot as she was, he decided that she wasn't the type to be infatuated by cheap lines and tricks. There was no point for polite conversation, really.

"Yeah… well, it's just that… we don't normally deliver."

He flinched unconsciously, wondering how big of an ass his father had to be on the phone to get the restaurant owners to relent.

Maybe she caught the hint of humility in his eyes or maybe she just felt satisfied rubbing in the fact that Tree Hill's newest residents were snobs, because she immediately softened her voice and assured him, "It was nice to take a break, anyway."

He walked up the steps slowly and methodically. The longer he took, the longer the delivery girl would be standing in his front hall. He dug around absentmindedly for his wallet -- his mind was preoccupied with scheming up ideal scenarios with the stranger downstairs, preferably one where he'd untie her hair and moisten her lips with his own. After dumping the contents of one of his clothing boxes on the ground, he found a clean shirt and slid it on. Finally retrieving some cash, he exited the bedroom but stopped at the top of the stairs. He inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat as he watched her fixing her hair, pulling it back tightly. Her chest was arched forward and her arms were bent and lifted high, tugging her t-shirt away from the waist of her jeans, slipping a bit of skin for his enjoyment. For such a simple task, Nathan found himself intriguingly aroused.

He descended the stairs, a smile playing on his features.

"Ah, looks like you found clothes. You normally answer the door half naked?" Her tone was nowhere near playful, just really, really sarcastic.

But Nathan Scott never left a comment like that unrequited. "You didn't seem to mind. Or maybe you did. Thanks for noticing, either way." He winked at her.

She narrowed her eyes. "Is everything a girl says an invitation to you?"

He laughed to himself. "Yeah, uh… it usually is," he answered unabashedly.

She watched him with a careful look on her face as if he was some sort of science experiment. He waited for a response that never came.

He handed her the cash, unsure of where this conversation was headed, if anywhere. "Thanks for dropping off the food,"

The sharp tongued blonde nodded her head, the curious expression still clear in her eyes. She began sifting through her pocket for something.

"You go to Tree Hill High?" He asked, considering that it'd be fun seeing her again, unusual as that was for him.

Laughing shortly, she finally pulled the wad of singles out of her pocket. "Uh… not really."

Well, damn.

"Tree Hill doesn't seem too big a town… I'm sure we'll meet again…"

"Yeah. Well, I better get going," she smiled, though her mind seemed miles away.

"Keep the change." He interrupted, noticing the cash in her hand.

"Thanks."

That was another first, he realized as he saw her retreating to her old Buick. He couldn't even catch her name. Goodbye nameless delivery girl.

He watched her leave, seeing that any chance he'd had was gone, whatever 'chance' that may have been. For now, at least.

* * *

The day was long and by ten o'clock, Nathan had already unpacked all of his clothes and other various personal belongings. Fumbling for the past hour, he'd finally managed to hook up his TV and play station. He let out an aggravated grunt as he collapsed on the bed, too exhausted to even bother playing a game. He shut his eyes, thinking about a lot of things. He was bored out of his skull, but knew things would pick back up once school started and he got familiar with his new territory. Nathan thought of his life back in Charlotte. He missed living in a town where there were more things to do than cow tipping on Friday night. That was an exaggeration. Tree Hill was a coastal community but still… it was in the middle of nowhere. And yet, he appreciated the opportunity to be wretched away from his so-called friends. He was sick of them anyway. They were petty mindless fucks. And they had all just wanted a piece of what Nathan Scott could offer -- popularity, money, sex and a good time.

His thoughts dispersed as he heard the front door open and shut. "Nathan?" His chest constricted for a moment at the soft feminine voice. It was an emotion that he'd long forgotten in his earlier youth, hope, perhaps. But the feeling was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He got up languidly and went downstairs.

"Hey, mom,"

Her eyes held a look of both relief and sadness. He hated it. While Dan Scott expected nothing but the best, it seemed Deb Scott, his mother, expected the worst.

"Hi sweetie," She held her arms out. He walked forward tentatively but gave in to a brief hug. "So, it looks like you guys got a lot done without me." And then came a slew of apologies; apologies for skipping out of town the week of the move, for working too much, and for generally not being around.

He shrugged nonchalantly.

"So, where's your father?"

"At the dealership,"

A look of dissatisfaction crossed her features, before a hollow smile reappeared. "Nathan. I know this isn't what we had planned. And I'm very sorry that you couldn't finish out your senior year at Vance,"

He sighed tiredly, not really wanting to partake in this type of conversation. She was quick to notice his response, but continued after hesitating for a second, "Luckily, your grandfather had an opportunity for us… to start over. I know we're in a much smaller town now, but there will be plenty to do. You'll make new friends." She looked at him in what she must have thought was an endearing way, when he found it completely suffocating.

"Yeah well, the Tree Hill Ravens are a joke. They haven't made it past district in five years. And once I make captain, if I can't carry them any further, then all those years of practice, games and getting grilled by dad was for nothing."

"Nathan, is your father pushing you too hard again?"

"That's not the point, mom!" He snapped, angrier now more than ever as the facts were laid out on the table. And yet, she still didn't get it.

She winced at his reaction. "I just want you to be happy,"

Sometimes Nathan felt bad for his mom. She was so sad all the time and running away from this life she didn't want by devoting all her time to multiple charitable funds. But then it just as easily pissed him off that he and his dad didn't match up to this epic life she'd pictured. She was weak and he didn't need any of that influence in his own life.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you very much for all the reviews! This was an idea just rolling around in my head and originally I wanted to write it from Haley's POV. But, then I read **purplemud**'s _How To Play And Win_ and I just love how Grace captured Nathan's personality. I really recommend that fic, btw. It's fun writing from a boy's perspective! Anyway, thanks again!!! P.S. I don't claim ownership to anything remotely related to OTH. Well, except this story I guess.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

This town was smaller than he thought because apparently, in Tree Hill, the walls had ears. As soon as he'd stepped foot into the halls of his new school, he had person after person staring and their murmurs revealed that there were certain things they were already up on. Amongst the chit-chat there were three definitive words he'd made out: Nathan, Scott, and basketball. Retrieving a slip of paper from his pocket, he read off his combo mentally as he manipulated the lock to his locker. He ignored the buzz around him, putting some of his belongings away.

"Nathan Scott, right?"

He found himself suddenly flanked by a group of girls. He closed his locker and turned to look at the brazen brunette who'd called him by name. She was cute, in a prepubescent body of a 12-year-old sort of way. The look on her face was one of eagerness and it was kind of pathetic. Her minions mirrored her looks as well, short skirts and all.

"Let me guess… captain of the cheerleading team?" he plastered a subtle smirk on his face.

She smiled devilishly, obviously impressed. "Well, yes. But you can call me Alex. So… what gave me away?" She stared at him with a look of expectancy in her eyes, obviously fishing for some sort of compliment.

"Besides the ribbon in your hair? You're just easy… to read that is," he shrugged. And he walked past them, ignoring the scoffs and hated whispers directed his way. He'd known these boy-girl games his entire high school life and he really wasn't in the mood. But of course, they _always_ came back. Indifference was prime bait for girls like that.

Holding his schedule in hand, he walked through the halls trying to navigate to his first class. With the other students milling around, no one really offered to help, but he was kind of enjoying the solitude. He stopped short of a bulletin board, a florescent green flyer catching his eyes. Suddenly, his mood had improved as evident by his lips curving into a smile. He crammed the flyer into his book bag before continuing down the hall in what he thought was the right direction.

Someone was calling his name, but he ignored it. At this point, everyone seemed to know it.

"Nathan?" He turned the voice even closer than it had been.

His blonde hair was mussed up and pointing in all sorts of directions. His eyes were familiar, squinty, but familiar all the same -- blue, just like his own. He was tallish and lanky. And Nathan couldn't distinguish much else. He stiffened his features, unable to deter who this stranger was.

"What, man?" He responded agitatedly, prompted by his encounter with the cheerleader bots.

The guy's expression didn't change. "It's me… Lucas,"

A memory of a much younger version of the person before him appeared in his mind; two front teeth missing and freckles galore.

"Luke?" Recognition dawned upon him.

They approached each other slowly as if to test the other's true existence. And then the bell rang.

The high-pitched alarm broke through the haze of confusion and nostalgia sitting heavily between the two boys. Nathan unclenched his right hand, revealing an unintentionally scrunched up piece of paper and roughly flattened it out. "Uh… do you know where this class is?"

* * *

His first few classes were uneventful not because nothing had happened but because nothing he cared about actually happened. Aside from pure boredom, he was kept amused by the inner workings of Tree Hill High. People were predictable. And class by class he began to take notice of the groups of friends that ran amongst the school. For the first time, he was able to observe as an outsider only because his classmates were still sizing him up. They hadn't figured out exactly where he fit in yet.

It turned out he'd probably be running the same social circles as Lucas, though, his long lost cousin. Lucas, who was apparently the captain of their crappy varsity basketball team. Yeah, once tryouts began, that would be changing and he'd definitely be running _that_ social circle.

He couldn't figure his cousin out and he was particularly good with reading people, although that delivery girl from the other day had been somewhat of a puzzle too. Lucas didn't talk much because nearly half the day was gone and news of their relations hadn't hit the rumor mill yet. They ended up having a US Government class together in the morning. And as their names were read off the roster, their teacher had teasingly inquired, "Any relation?", but by the time either boy had something to say, Mr. Phillips had moved on and was calling on Smith, Timothy Smith. They didn't really get a chance to catch up, but he'd noticed a couple of the more athletic looking guys poking his cousin and drawing his attention occasionally. He'd shrug them off or appease them with a short laugh but otherwise he actually looked like he wanted to learn. A jock with nerdy tendencies, he supposed. No wonder the basketball team suffered. Nathan couldn't help but to have bitter thoughts. It turned out his only competition was his own blood. But they were just that, blood, not friends, not even family really.

Admittedly, he couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't heard from his cousin or his uncle and aunt since the age of six. But then it dawned on him -- the realization of who his father was. He couldn't blame them for initiating the distance if they had. His thoughts dwelled with him as he waited for his cousin who'd suggested they talk in the gym during lunch. Maybe Lucas was embarrassed; embarrassed to have his little world know that he had family like Nathan who was an afterthought to Dan Scott. Suddenly he didn't particularly care what his dad had done to create bad blood.

The anger dwindled between his clenched fists and rigid set jaw. He saw the blonde-haired Scott slide past of the double doors, peering behind him to make sure no one was following him. This only goaded Nathan more. His cousin approached him with an oblivious smile on his face, as his sneakers noisily squeaked against the floor.

"So, you play basketball, huh?"

Nathan's brows furrowed at his question.

Lucas saw this and quickly added, "I saw you grab the flyer earlier… and people tend to know a lot about other people in this area."

"How?"

The blonde looked at him disbelievingly, "Uh… I guess… boredom and their slight obsession with high school sports. Anyway, I don't pay much attention to any of it. You shouldn't either."

"Yeah," he answered dully. Nathan made it clear he was past pleasantries. He couldn't stand Lucas' holier-than-thou attitude. He was lucky enough to be varsity team captain and he talked about the game like it was a joke.

They were still standing in the center of the dimly lit gymnasium just two feet away from each other.

"I asked about you once," Lucas said suddenly, "when I was eight. And about your parents. My dad wasn't home and I'd just thrown it out at my mom. She had the strangest look in her eyes… I can't… I can't really remember the look. She said that I couldn't see you because… you lived too far away or something like that. But that night after Dad had come home, I saw her crying and him just holding her," he paused, looking back at Nathan warily. "I never mentioned your family again."

"What is all that supposed to mean?" Nathan asked, his tone cold, despite the personal story he'd just been told.

"I've been here for three years… and all of a sudden, you show up. What are you guys doing here in Tree Hill, Nathan? " His cousin's voice had stiffened, Nathan's attitude finally rubbing off on him.

Nathan fired right back. "If you're trying to say that we moved here just to fuck with your family then get over it. I didn't even know you guys existed anymore."

Lucas looked perplexed. "Nathan, we were six when we met. How were we supposed to keep in touch? Don't you realize that this runs much deeper than just the two of us? I don't understand why you're acting like… like I did something wrong,"

As much as Nathan wanted to smooth out the apparent Scott family soap opera and as much as he wanted to the tame the jerk that he was, Lucas came across like he was whining. And if his father actually taught him anything, it would be an entire manual's worth of how _not_ to be a pathetic loser. Whining was somewhere in the top ten.

"Whatever. All I know is that I got shipped here from Charlotte against my own will. I was varsity co-captain my junior year for Vance, which if you didn't know, we were in the playoffs last year. All I care about is that after my tryouts, maybe, just maybe the Ravens will have a chance at gaining some of that glory, no thanks to you."

The last part of his retort was harsh, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth. He was eager to see Lucas' reaction, his eyes hazy with angst. He wanted to piss him off and have him feel the same injustice and resentment that curdled his blood. But unlike Nathan, he kept eerily calm, a pitying look in his eyes.

"See you at tryouts." He grimly promised as he headed back in the direction from where he came.

As the double doors shut, Nathan stripped his book bag off his shoulders and flung it at the nearby bleachers.

* * *

After holing himself in his bedroom for several hours, the smell of tomato sauce and garlic permeated throughout the house, finding him upstairs. His mom was probably baking a frozen lasagna or something. Maybe she ordered pizza. His stomach responded eagerly to the smell.

"Mom?"

In the kitchen, he was stunned to find his mom actually cooking. She beamed at him proudly, sporting a floral apron, clean and barely used.

"Hi, sweetie." She paused to focus on the pasta boiling on the stove. "I stopped by your room when I got home, but you were sleeping,"

Nathan knew. He hadn't been sleeping at all. He'd tried to, both physically and emotionally spent from the day's events. Instead he had simply lain in his bed wide awake and his thoughts scattered. All he could think about was his run-in with Lucas and everything that surrounded it. And when his mom had softly tapped on his door and opened it he'd shut his eyes quickly, feigning sleep to avoid her.

"How was your first day?" She prompted. Her attention was all on the Ragu sauce, though.

"Well… they weren't all hicks," he commented dryly.

She glanced up at him, not sure if she had heard correctly. But he squelched that topic quickly.

"You're… cooking?"

His mother gazed at him affectionately for noticing. "It's our first official sit-down dinner together. I thought I'd put a little bit more effort than just ordering take-out."

He smiled despite himself. She was trying and he saw that.

And then his father appeared out of thin air, a cryptic smile on his face as he stood in the kitchen entryway. The moment with his mother was gone and Nathan snapped back to the reality that his father was a manipulative, twisted asshole and his mother was negligent and delusional.

"What's this? Is that… is that my wife cooking?"

He walked up behind her, snaking his arm around her waist and dropping a chaste kiss on her cheek. For a brief second, they looked happy. Then his father turned his attention to his son.

"Nathan, did you find out when tryouts are going to be held?"

"Yeah, mid-October."

"You mean, in six weeks?" Dan corrected him, quick to point out how the soon the event actually was.

He nodded, forcing himself not to roll his eyes at his father.

"Dan, I don't want any discussion of basketball during dinner." His mother forewarned.

"After dinner, we'll go for a run. We can discuss your conditioning plans for the rest of the season," Dan said directly to Nathan.

"Conditioning plans? Our son is not a professional athlete," she paused to address Nathan. "Not that you couldn't be," and returned her irritated gaze to her husband. "He's a seventeen-year-old high school student."

"Who happens to be good, no great, at basketball. I'm just trying to help him develop to his full potential, Deb. Is that such a problem?"

Deb sighed quietly with a disapproving look in her face as she worked the pasta into the sauce with a slotted spoon. "No, not yet it's not,"

Nathan watched the exchange with uneasiness. They acted like he wasn't even there.

His dad gave a smug smile at his wife's defeated response and Nathan couldn't wait to give him a reason to wipe it off.

"So, dad. You'll never guess who last year's varsity captain was…"

"Doesn't matter, you're the new captain this year," his father quipped back easily.

"But aren't you curious about his stats and what not?" He watched the lines in his father's forehead appear and confusion settle in his eyes. Dan Scott knew how much Nathan hated being compared to other players. And Nathan knew how much his father hated having information withheld from him.

"Nathan, just spit it out since you're obviously so eager to tell me," Dan demanded, his patience already wore thin.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning into the counter top behind him. He was going to enjoy this. "Well, I guess you forgot to mention that we're not the only Scott family in town. And apparently, I wasn't the only one 'blessed' with the basketball genes,"

The smirk disappeared from his lips, though, as he gauged his parents' reaction and was met with an eerie silence.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and for continuing to read the story. Sorry there was no Naley, but the chapter was vital to the rest of the story. And if you can't tell already, it will be a rather slow (but hopefully not torturous) build up of their relationship. Thanks for sticking around! PS - All your questions and the "mysteries" will be answered soon!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"What are you talking about?" Dan seethed.

Nathan watched his parents carefully. He wasn't scared of his dad, just very surprised that he'd had such a strong reaction. Beside him, his mother was still, her wooden spoon unmoving.

"I'm talking about the fact that your brother and his wife and kid have been living in Tree Hill and you didn't even tell me." Nathan scoffed then realizing something. "Hell, I don't even think you knew!"

His parents looked at one another, both seemingly searching for answers.

"Dad, what is going on? Why haven't I seen my only cousin for more than ten years? How could you lose touch with… with your brother?"

"Nathan, your Uncle Keith and I… well, we've always had a strained relationship. Ever since we were young," his voice was velvety and smooth. "This has nothing to do with you or even your mother. This is about me and Keith,"

He considered his father's words which sounded legitimate enough.

"You really had no idea that he and Aunt Karen just so happened to live here too?"

"Son, I had not a clue,"

"So I guess a Scott family reunion is out of the question," he joked wryly. "But it looks like I don't really have a choice but to spend almost all my time around Lucas… we may even become best friends," he snickered.

He received no response from either parent. Nathan wasn't stupid -- there was something else. To his discontent, Lucas had been right about one thing. This ran deeper than just the two of them.

"I'm going out." Nathan took one glance at his mother's spaghetti before adding, "I'll just grab something to eat if I get hungry."

The kitchen remained quiet as he slid on a pair of basketball shoes. He even paused just to see if his dad would refute his leaving and drag him on that evening run. But none came. Swiping his keys off the key holder, he slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

Driving along the barren roads, he found himself headed towards Tree Hill's downtown area, which was only made up of about eight city-size blocks. He parked along the side of the cobblestone sidewalk, amongst maybe five other cars. It was pretty deserted, but being that it was almost nine thirty he suspected as much. It was probably past bedtime for the old townies of Tree Hill. In the middle of the night, the shops and restaurants seemed historic with absolutely no pulse of life. And if possible, he felt like even more of an outsider.

But then it caught his eyes, the only remaining shop still open, well besides the bar. It was a corner lot that illuminated the desolate streets. He marveled at a sign boasting coffee and pastries, suddenly remembering how the last thing he'd consumed was a banana about five hours prior to. The warm light of the restaurant was just as inviting. Through the glass window panes, he could see a lone figure behind the register wiping away at the counter.

_Market & Harbor Café_, he read quickly before swinging the door open.

"Hi, can I help…" the girl looked up mid-sentence, startled by Nathan's appearance. "… you?"

And he was just as surprised. "Delivery Girl," he said, approaching the counter.

She didn't seem enthused at her given nickname. "You know we close in less than five minutes,"

His stomach growled in response, embarrassingly enough. "Well, that's five minutes to feed me," he mumbled.

Her eyes softened at that but she still snapped, "_Less_ than five minutes!" Then she began to gather a plate of the evening's remaining baked goods and proceeded to pour two large cups of coffee.

Nathan sat down on the stool, watching as she worked so fluidly with her surroundings. It was as if she'd been in that café for a long time. It was quaint with richly painted walls in alluring reds and golds. A section of the restaurant housed shelves lined with an array of books accompanied by a comfortable seating area made of overstuffed couches. It felt homier and more welcoming than any of the places he'd called home, especially his most recent one.

"Sugar? Cream?" She inquired, placing the bountiful plate in front of him.

He nodded carelessly too busy with tearing off the paper of a chocolate muffin. Before taking a bite, he glanced up at her to find her somewhat entertained. But he was too hungry to care.

In a matter of minutes he had wolfed down a large muffin, two scones and a slice of apple pie.

"Um, wow," she stated in astonishment.

He didn't answer as he washed it down with his still warm coffee. "Thanks," he finally said. "I really needed that,"

"You think?"

He smiled a little at that. That wit of hers was fetching. Nathan pulled out his wallet, throwing a couple of twenties on the counter. "I'll get out of here… since you should've closed by now… right?"

"I'm a little offended, Nathan," his name fell from lips so gracefully. He was flattered that she'd remembered which was odd. Girls tended not to forget his name. "No lame come-ons? No cheesy lines? You haven't even asked for my name once," she teased.

This girl really knew how to throw a guy off. "Based on our last conversation, I didn't think you were interested…" to his delight, he watched as her face flushed slightly at his comment before adding, "You know… in sharing your name."

She took a sip from her mug, looking as though she were trying to hide her face behind it for just a blip of a second. "Yeah well, as much as I _love_ the name 'Delivery Girl'…"

Wearing a mischievous smirk, he then leaned over from where he still sat on the counter stool. "I don't know… I don't usually have to ask more than once just for a name…"

She rolled her eyes. "It's Haley… Haley James," she laughed to herself.

_Haley_, he thought before repeating it under his breath.

"And Haley really needs to close up," she offered him a small smile before taking his plate.

"Oh, right. Um… do you need any help?"

Haley looked at him trying to hide the pleased look on her face. "Uh… you're fine, Nathan. But thank you. You can just head out from here." She motioned to the front door.

"So, you think I'm fine?" He taunted. He came around the other side of the counter, grabbing the two emptied mugs from the counter.

"Do these lines ever work for you?"

"Apparently, not with you," He responded, eyeing her steadily.

She grabbed the cups from him, balancing them on her plate. "I'm already done here. I'm just going to wash these and then you can help take the trash out,"

The café was closed and asleep just like the rest of the buildings, Nathan observed from out front. He watched Haley lock the front door and approach him. She smiled at him timidly, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jean jacket.

"Thanks again for helping out. You really didn't need to,"

"Since you wouldn't take my money, I was kind of obligated to," he ribbed with a grin on his face.

She scoffed good-naturedly and back handed his arm in retaliation. He liked it. He liked that from the moment he met this girl she was straight forward, quick-witted, and seemed to… well, tolerate him. Just him. There was none of his reputation, basketball or popularity hanging over him. Not to mention, she was pretty damn hot.

"Do you…" she hesitated. Frowning for a moment then she quickly asked, "Do you need a lift home?"

"No thanks. My car's just over there." He pointed in the general direction.

"Of course." She smiled to herself.

"So, I'll see you around, Haley,"

"Yeah, see ya," she responded lightly.

Haley smiled once more, taking a few steps back before fully turning around and walking towards her car.

* * *

The rest of the school week droned on as if everything was back to 'normal'. His mother was off again on another last minute business trip. When he wasn't at the dealership, his father was having him watch last year's game tapes, practice the basics, and keep up with his endurance or strength conditioning. There was no mention of the 'other' Scott family and when Nathan happened across Lucas in the halls or they met each others' eyes in classes they acted as if they'd never known each other.

Nathan had met a few of the other kids in school, being that it was such a small school he found the same recurring faces in several of his classes. And it wasn't that he sought after their friendship; like that stupid cheerleader who continued to greet him as they passed each other in the hall. Apparently, rejection didn't register within her brain capacity. People were always interested in the new kid and they just seemed to flock to him.

"_Hey, I hear you play basketball." The curious looking kid with disheveled light brown hair leaned over whispering._

_Nathan looked over at his neighboring classmate, appreciative of the reprieve from whatever the Physics teacher was droning on about. "You heard right,"_

"_Is it true you were last year's MVP for West Charlotte?"_

_He frowned at that. "Nah,"_

_The guy relaxed back into his seat, seemingly disappointed._

"_I didn't even go to West Charlotte. But I did earn MVP at Vance," he responded coolly over this left shoulder._

_That seemed to draw the kid's attention once more as he shifted his weight to the right. "I'm Tim Smith."_

"_Nathan…" he stopped himself short before adding his last name, thinking about his cousin. But Nathan was never one to be ashamed about anything personally. "Scott."_

"_You should try out for the team. I play varsity. It'd be cool, bro," he nudged Nathan in a friendly manner._

"_Count on it," he smirked into his answer._

After making Tim's acquaintance, he'd been introduced to some of the other varsity athletes. He was even re-introduced to some of the cheerleaders that hung around the crew, but as soon as Lucas appeared, Nathan was gone. His cousin was a simple reminder of where Nathan's attention needed to be; where his focus must stay. And every day while the rest of the school was fucking around during lunch time, he was at the gym running through his drills over and over again. He was eating, breathing, and dreaming basketball. This year was going to be it for him.

"Two hundred…" he puffed out, sinking the ball once more straight through the hoop. As he collected the ball in his hands, he turned around to find a stout old man with a cap and jacket in Ravens blue.

"Coach Durham," Nathan acknowledged as he walked forward.

As a senior, Physical Education was no longer mandatory but even so, Nathan was well aware of who the daytime P.E. teacher was. Only because in the early morning and evenings, he was the JV and Varsity coach as well.

"I've been listening to you for the past few days now, from my office. Thought I might come out and see what all the ruckus was for once. What's your name, son?"

"Nathan Scott." He responded somewhat surprised that he hadn't heard of him yet.

"Course," the coach answered tersely. He narrowed his eyes slightly, obviously studying the young student. "You and uh… Lucas Scott wouldn't be related, would ya?"

Nathan scowled outwardly, refusing to answer. His eyes dropped to the floor and his mouth fell shut, hiding the truth.

"Well, I didn't ask if you're sweet on him, boy!" he exclaimed in an exasperated tone.

"Yes," he admitted, after several long seconds. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It doesn't. But as I'm sure you were already aware of, Lucas was varsity captain last year."

Nathan squeezed his left fist at that, his right arm clutching the basketball tightly. God, the old man knew how to grate on your nerves.

"He could learn a few things from you," Coach Durham commented seriously. "And vice versa." He added with an intimidating glint in his eyes.

"Not if I make captain this year," Nathan promised.

The coach smiled, almost wickedly, as if he'd figured something out. "Son, let me tell you a couple of things. If you want to play on my team, now let me repeat that, _my _team, you play by _my_ rules. I don't need any pissing competitions or fights breaking out on my court. Save it for the opposing team."

There were a lot of things that Nathan could spout off at that moment. Like, how he didn't want to play for _his_ team. He wanted to play for Vance. And that he had reviewed over a dozen of his precious team's game tapes only to discover that their team captain didn't have anyone to assist to. They all sucked. Not to mention, their beloved team captain had crappy form and dribbled like a fucking girl. He wanted to scream all these things to Coach Durham's face but he didn't. He didn't own the captain slot yet. He wasn't even on the team yet. And that as much as he loved the repetitive drills and puking his guts out at four in the morning because his dad was a basketball Nazi, he needed the game as much. And this year was going to be it for him.

So he kept his response vague, not really agreeing nor disagreeing. "Whatever."

There was a vein beginning to show on the coach's left temple. "I'd check that attitude if I were you, boy. You have passion and what looks to be determination, I'll admit that. But if you haven't figured it out yet, basketball's a team sport. No one and I mean _no one_ wants to play for a captain that sees it otherwise. You just remember that." His face contorted into a smile then. "Good luck at tryouts." He patted the young athlete on the shoulder, before exiting the gym.

His jaw flexed in irritability. Luck was for the pathetic. Luck was for the unwilling and unmotivated losers of the world. But luck was not for Nathan Scott.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for the reviews once again. Hopefully, you will enjoy the bits of Naley in this chapter. Hope everyone had a blessed Thanksgiving!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Ten minutes of seventh period had gone by, the last class of the day and the instructor was still missing. The students were growing restless with a few of the potheads having already leaked out of the classroom. Nathan stole a subtle look at Lucas, who was engulfed in a book. _What a fucking nerd_. As if he'd heard his thoughts, his cousin grew distracted from his novel to look up at Nathan. Having been caught, Nathan stared back at him unwavering. He waited for Lucas to falter, to turn away, tuck tail and run. Instead he saw what appeared to be concern flash in those oh so recognizable blue eyes.

Suddenly, he felt a heavy hand clamp over his shoulder. He turned to meet the owner of the hand he was about two seconds from breaking, proudly sporting a varsity letterman.

"Oh, didn't mean to scare you," he laughed, removing his hand. His stark white teeth contrasted to his rich dark skin. "Scott, right?"

"What's up?" Nathan nodded in acknowledgement, slightly peeved from his comment. He recognized the face from the crowd of jocks he'd become fast friends with but he could have figured that out on his own. It didn't take a rocket scientist to pick up on this guy's statuesque build.

"Big man on campus… you know, you got the whole town talking,"

Nathan looked at him skeptically. "Not interested, man,"

He shrugged, flopping down into the seat beside him, hunching forward. "And why not? I hear big things especially about your game against Hopewell last year, was it?"

He gritted his teeth at that -- the game that ended their season too soon. "Is there a point to this conversation?" He asked his prying classmate.

But he ignored it. "Funny how you and Luke have the same last name. Y'all act the same too, like you're so much better than everyone else."

"Funny how you like to run your mouth."

Then the inquisitive boy bent down low, bringing his face dangerously close to Nathan's. "Just because you played some ball from whatever school you came from, doesn't mean shit. Ain't no one impressed. And if you think you're getting Lucas' spot, you're kidding yourself, boy." He wrenched away, sitting back into the seat.

Despite this guy's cutting words and attempt at intimidation, Nathan could care less. He smirked in amusement. "What are you? His biggest fan?"

"Nope. You're looking at this year's team captain for varsity basketball." He said this loudly, his eyes tracing the far front corner of the room. Nathan followed his line of sight falling directly at his cousin who stared back at the two of them.

"Q, will you please shut up? You have been saying that shit since freshman year!" Alex ground out disgustedly from a couple seats behind Nathan. For once he had to respect the girl. Her comment received a few laughs from the rest of the classroom.

"If I'd have asked for a dumb slut's opinion, I would have called on your name Alex," he snapped. The classroom fell silent.

Nathan eyed this guy disbelievingly. "Chill out, man," his voice warned, clearly heard throughout the room.

"And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?"

Nathan rationalized for a moment. He needed his mind focused on the game, on making team captain, on graduating high school and moving on. But then, Lucas's voice shattered the tension and broke through his practiced concentration.

"He's not worth it, Nathan."

But his cousin's reassuring words only elicited an onslaught of painful reminders and strenuous emotions that claimed him.

"That's right. Take orders from _last_ year's captain. That's a good little bitch."

And that's all that Nathan needed to hear before his fist found the other guy's jaw. Within seconds the two were on the ground wrestling for domination, knocking over a couple of desks along the way. The rest of their peers had shuffled their way to the back except for a few members of the basketball team, Lucas included. Nathan felt several pairs of arms on him, trying to pull him off of 'Q' or whoever the hell that guy was. But then a fist landed right back in his face, the side of his face going numb momentarily. He managed to shrug off the hands that tried to stop him, grappling the other guy to the ground once more. Then he slugged him in the face again. And again. And again, throwing punch after punch to the boy's face; the boy who thought he'd be team captain. He didn't care anymore.

He heard a few girls screaming, _stop_. Then there was more yelling, with a distinct male adult voice mixed in, followed by him finally being wretched off of his defeated opponent. He rose tiredly only to face a very authoritative looking figure. He kept his head held high, breathing roughly and continuing to stare directly at the obvious faculty member. And then his gaze fell past the older gentleman. He held his breath, stilling himself because mentally he was floored. Because just a few feet away in front of the chalkboard stood none other than Haley James. There was a mixture of emotions etched in her features, but the one that stood out the most was the disappointment evident in her eyes.

"What exactly is going on here?"

No one answered.

"Quentin, this is strike three. And _you_, must be Nathan Scott. You can call me Principal Turner. I'd say welcome to Tree Hill, but it looks like you've already settled in,"

* * *

Parked outside of the principal's office, Nathan sat alone on a bench waiting for his turn. He heard the muffled voice of Quentin's mother streaming from the phone. Like every other student in the school, he should've been nervous about what lay ahead behind that office door. But he wasn't. Simply because his mom was too busy drowning in her own fucking sorrow and his dad could care less unless it had to do with basketball. Rather, his thoughts were plagued with the sudden and untimely appearance of Haley James. Today must have been her first day at school. And as fate would allow, she happened to have the same seventh period with impeccable timing to see Nathan beating the pulp out of that kid's face. Thanks again, fate.

It was strange enough that his thoughts were clouded with some girl for more than the usual twenty to thirty minutes he'd spent in bed with. And he hadn't even made it to first base with this one. He dragged his hands down his face before remembering the split on his lower lip. He hissed in pain at his own mistake and then slumped back against the bench.

The door finally opened revealing a sulking Quentin, who brushed right past Nathan clipping him in the shoulder as he went. He rolled his eyes, entering the office and relaxing into the chair directly across from the principal's.

"Nathan, you don't have a volatile history, based on your records. It appears you were involved in a couple of fights, but those all occurred during your freshman year of high school. This is just not an ideal way to start off your senior year,"

He didn't respond but just looked away disinterestedly.

The principal cleared his throat, realizing that the friendly approach wasn't working. "Since Mr. Fields is keeping quiet on what seems to have happened, can you please indulge me?"

"Or we could just cut to the chase, where you call my parents and I'm served whatever the punishment-of-the-day is," Nathan answered nonchalantly.

Principal Turner sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest.

It was less than five minutes for Nathan's predictions to be precisely met when his mother never answered and when his father had cut off the Principal to attend a meeting. But said he'd have a discussion with _his_ son later that night. He seemed a little confused as he hung up the phone but still seemed determined. He slapped a file on the desk, sliding it closer to the young student. Then he sampled through some of the documents.

"You played JV Basketball your freshman year and Varsity for sophomore and junior year. Your sophomore year you applied and got accepted into the High Flyers Basketball camp. Junior year you were brought on as co-captain, honored as that year's MVP, and exclusively selected for the prestigious Nike Training Camp in Atlanta, Georgia." His eyes never left the file as he summed up Nathan's highest accolades as a high school athlete.

He shrugged.

"You have talent and ability when it comes to basketball, Mr. Scott, that's quite apparent. And if I find you involved in any of these types of altercations again, your sports career will be affected. I promise you that."

Nathan felt his insides cinch a little at that. It was rare when basketball was used against him. And with the control out of his hands, he felt threatened.

"Tryouts aren't until next month… I'm not even on the team yet,"

"That's right, you haven't even made the team… yet. Nonetheless, we will not condone violence or disorderly conduct here at Tree Hill. And for those who cannot abide, they will be suspended indefinitely from school sports."

"Does the same apply to the kid who started this?"

"He's been thoroughly warned. But worry about yourself, Nathan. Just be thankful that the fight didn't escalade anymore than it did otherwise, Quentin would be on his way to the hospital, not home."

He sighed in frustration. "Is that all?"

"Yes, you can see yourself out." The principal then glanced down at the watch on his wrist. "Don't think that because there's only fifteen minutes left, that returning to class is optional."

"I'll try not to." Nathan answered smartly, opening the door back to the main office.

"Oh, and Nathan? We'll see you here tomorrow, bright and early at seven thirty for Saturday detention, room twenty-eight."

Just great.

* * *

Nathan peered through the thin glass pane on the door. And there she was seated casually on the front of the teacher's desk, stack of papers in hand, looking sexy as fuck. Wait a minute. Oh, wait a fucking minute. Why was she instructing the class???

He reeled away from the door, stunned by the revelation. He took a moment, trying to control his breathing which had suddenly quickened. A familiar feeling washed over him, an excitement that began to build, like right before the start of game. He smiled to himself. Well, game on.

"These are the handouts that Mrs. Morris assigned to prepare you for the quiz next--"

He sauntered in saving a knowing smile just for her before he slunk into his seat.

"Let's talk after class," she said, directing the attention to him, which he gladly accepted.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his tone suggestive.

He received a few snickers around him as well as a heated glare from Haley. Miss James. Whatever.

She continued on about the assignment while Nathan watched her pace the room. She was wearing a modest dress that wrapped and tied around her lithe frame with a thin cardigan on top. Minimal cleavage and just enough leg below the knees. Her hair was twisted into a clean and again, modest bun. But that is never enough to stop boys from being boys. He swore he heard growling from some of the other senior boys in class. And Nathan felt hot, bothered, and supremely territorial. After all, he'd met her first.

"So, I'll let you guys begin on that worksheet since we only have about five minutes left of class. Any questions?"

Immediately a bunch of hands went up. She hesitated, startled by the number of inquiries, but selected Alex.

"How old are you exactly? Are you even qualified to be teaching us?"

"Uh… well, I graduated with my Bachelor's last year. So that kind of gives you an idea of how old I am," she answered truthfully and congenially.

"Yeah, but does that mean you're qualified? I mean, do you even know what you're talking about?"

Nathan continued to look at the substitute instructor, who surprisingly didn't seem distraught. But who was he kidding? He'd been formally introduced to her attitude more than once.

"And might I ask what basis are you trying to qualify me on? Because I'm qualified in terms of education; majored in English and minored in Secondary Education. And if you're considering my experience, well, I've tutored since I was thirteen and participated in multiple teaching internships since the year I graduated from high school. But if you're looking at my qualifications based on my appearance, well then I could ask you, if you're qualified to be in this class. Because strictly on looks, you look qualified for the seventh grade. And yes, I do know what I'm talking about."

The not-so-bright cheerleader snorted disdainfully, ignoring the impressed oohs and aahs of the class.

"How long are you subbing for?" Tim spoke out loud, despite his hand held high in the air.

"For however long Mrs. Morris needs me. By the way, are any of these questions actually related to the assignment or the quiz? _Macbeth_, perhaps?"

No one answered.

"Alright, I'll take three more questions and then you guys can just fart around until the bell rings. But guys, please don't push your homework off till Monday,"

He listened to the rest of the questions, all guys and their lame attempts in trying to get to know the young, pretty teacher. She had actually gone to Tree Hill for high school and finished up college at Duke. She was the youngest of six, so no hot younger sister and no, she would not go to Tim Smith's rager tonight. The class finally turned their attention to one another and away from Haley. He saw her sigh with relief, walking towards the other side of the desk.

"Hey, Mr. Fight Club,"

He looked up, trying to hide his annoyance at seeing the very adamant cheerleader at his side.

"Oh my God, I didn't even see your face earlier. Are you okay?" She leaned closer, bringing her hand to touch his face.

He pulled away uncomfortably. "No, I'm not. Can you please give me some space?"

She smiled at him coyly as if he were playing hard-to-get. "I just wanted to say 'thank you' for defending me earlier and to let you know that I owe you,"

Nathan's turned away from the girl who was smothering him with nonsense. He caught Haley staring at them, rather at him before turning away abruptly. He wondered... and decided it'd be worth a test.

He smirked to please Alex, still staring at Haley all the while. "Sure, no problem,"

"So, I'll see you at Tim's tonight," she added sultrily.

"Yeah, I'll be there," he said, this time looking back at the over eager girl.

The bell rang clearly, signaling the first weekend out of the school year. The students that lingered were Nathan… and his cousin, who seemed especially slow at packing his things today.

"Hey, let me help Nathan and I'll talk to you later," she said sweetly to the boy up front.

He nodded with a hesitant smile, turning back to look at Nathan before finally exiting the classroom. It was probably a failed effort at trying to flirt with the sub.

Then there was two.

Nathan came forward, confident in his step and he approached her.

"Small world, huh?" she quipped before he could say anything. She sounded cheerful, overly so. She was being fake with him but he held in his disappointment.

"I just wanted to know what I missed in class," he said in somewhat of a defeated manner.

"Does it hurt?" She asked, gesturing to the cut on his lip among other things.

He shook his head negatively.

"You didn't go to the clinic, did you?"

"No."

She glanced around distractedly looking for something. "Here." She grabbed a red bag from underneath the chalkboard labeled 'First Aid'. "Sit down." She said, getting up from the teacher's chair and allowing him space.

He came around the other side while she comfortably perched herself on the desk beside him, facing him as she undid the package.

"Nathan… I feel like I owe you an apology," she admitted as she tore open a cleansing wipe. She opened it up and brought it forth to his lip, dabbing at it softly. He winced as the cool chemicals touched the open wound but eased at her gentle motions.

"You don't owe me anything," he assured her quietly.

Haley paused for a moment, seemingly surprised by his response. "Let… let me see your hands." He brought both hands up to her and as suspected, she found deep gashes along three of his knuckles. "You got him in the teeth, didn't you?"

"How'd you know that?"

"I'm the youngest of six, remember? I have two brothers and one really aggressive sister, so I've seen some fights in my day." As she cleaned the cuts on his hand, he noticed how she spoke so affectionately about her family. He couldn't understand.

He remained silent as she applied the anti-septic cream and bandaged his left hand, while humming an entrancing tune. And he found himself not wanting to leave this place, wherever it was.


End file.
